Google scanned and is posting about 26 pages (an alphabet!) from Flowers of a Moment (including some of the illustrations), at

Books.Google.Com, as one of their Limited Previews:

http://tinyurl.com/6e5ljl

[This book contains 185 zen poems by Korea's unofficial poet laureate, Ko Un, ("Korea's greatest living zen poet" says Lawrence Ferlinghetti) plus cherishable inkbrush drawings by him as a bonus (such as the one above); me, I was honored by the Northern California Book Award for Translation 2007 for my work on it.   The Swedish translation was voted Best Book of the Year by one of the leading newspapers there.]

Check it out. Pass it along.

from Butoh Master Tadashi Endo's home page:   MA in ZEN-Buddhism means "emptyness" and "space between the things". Butoh MA is the way to make the unvisible visible. The minimum of movements lets the expression of feelings and situations grow to highest intensity. It is more important to keep the balance between energy, tension and control, than to care for the ethetics of the movements. MA means to be IN BETWEEN. MA is the moment just at the end of a movement and before the beginning of the next one. MA is like standing on the riverside watching the water floating along. You want to reach the other side but the other side means death. You want to finish your life on this side but not yet, you are half here and half over there. Your soul is waiting for the last step - completely calm - without breathing - completely quiet - not dead and not alive - this is MA.
What does it mean - MAMU? MAMU is the combination of the two words in Zen-buddism Ma and Mu MA - means space in between MU - the big emptiness But the sound of MAMU seems to be like the first word of a baby.
MAMU Manifest MAMU 1 Child from a mammut Child out of rotten things MAMU 2 Power, which is always rising, ever and everywhere, in the air, in the sand, in the steam, in red and white. MAMU 3 MAMU exists and does not exist. Events, which disappear and will be born, hiding and showing themselves. MAMU 4 MAMU is an other country, born in the chaos of crossings and activites, MAMU is another body. MAMU 5 Shy - hesitating Like a cat - identifying with hesitating, - with hesitating realizing the differences. MAMU 6 To recognize all differences and drifting along with affirmation, this power is HUMOUR. MAMU 7 Big like a mammut, tiny small like a mammut -child Living in wild sensitivity. MAMU 8 About Butoh Butoh is everywhere -MAMU is everywhere. Grasping all threads, which lead through MAMU to Butoh, through Butoh to MAMU. MAMU 9 New horn, new fingernails, new hair, new breast, new lips, new knees, new eyeapples and new soles of the feet. MAMU 10 The key which leads to MAMU opens your new body and your new house and leads you to new ways, new journeys, and new dreams, to new ethic. MAMU 11 OUT in IN To walk beyond your own limits. MAMU 12 MAMUbird, MAMUcloud, MAMUfruits and fruitstones, MAMUhills, MAMUvoice Discover. Tadashi Endo & Ko Murobushi http://www.tadashi-endo.de/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=2&Itemid=5

infrathin : [neologism coined by Marcel Duchamp; definitions taken from his writings] The possible, implying the becoming — the passage from one to the other takes place in the infra-thin. Examples: fire without smoke, the warmth of a seat which has just beeen left, reflection from a mirror or glass, watered silk , iridescents, the people who go through (subway gates) at the very last moment, and velvet trousers, their whistling sound is an infra-thin separation signaled. Also, when tobacco smoke smells of the /  mouth which exhales it the 2 odors / marry by infra-thin. The difference / dimensional / between 2 mass produced objects (from the same mould) is an infrathin when the maximum precision is / obtained.

Photograph of surface of water

 …painting on glass, seen from this side without painting, creates the infrathin. The Interchange between what is put in view and the glacial observation of the public (that sees and immediately forgets). At least this exchange holds the value of an infrathin separation.

nichi nichi

kore ko

jitsu

 

[— Japanese ]

 

 

 

every day is a good day

 

 

 

 

 

During the eighth century Wu Tzo-tzu (d. 792) completed his last masterpiece for the royal court.  It was a landscape painted on a wall of the court.  We Tao-tzu worked patiently on it in solitude and kept the work draped until it was completed and the Emperor arrived for its unveiling.  Wu Tao-tzu drew aside the coverings and the Emperor gazed at the vast and awesome scene and its magnificent detail: woods, mountains, limitless expanses of sky, speckled with clouds and birds, and even men in the hills.  "Look," said the artist pointing, "here dwells a spirit in a mountain cave." He clapped his hands and the gate of the cave immediately flew open.  The artist stepped in, turned, and said, "The inside is even more beautiful. It is beyond words. Let me lead the way!" But before the Emperor could follow or even bring himself to speak, the gate, the artist, the painting all faded away. Before him remained only the blank wall with no trace of any brush marks.

[Japanese] space

space inbetween

in the kanji (picto-grams), we see a gate (space) with the sun (time) coming through*

thus not only space between spaces but also space between times

("we do not hear music, rather intervals")

relational space

Although it rules two things, is not created by compositional elements: it is what takes place in the mind of the person experiencing these elements



"... the simultaneous awareness of form and nonform that derives from an intensification of vision ... "

— from a catalog on Darren Waterston's art


———————————

*also noted by Michael Lazarin, Professor of English at Ryukoku University in Kyoto, Japan:

The kanji character "ma" represents an ingrained principle in Japan's collective cultural history that time is an integral part of the experience of space. In fact, the character means both an interval of time and an interval of space.

In such Japanese arts as Kabuki, Noh, dance, storytelling, music, calligraphy, painting, [haiku], and architecture, "ma" can refer to rhythm and beat, a dramatic pause in spoken lines, [caesura, in English; kireji, Japanese] or the use of empty space to enhance the sense of time and place.
__________________________

  ... noting in-breath, our out-breath, and the space between ...

— posted in the space inbetween 2007 and 2008:

 

There are dozens of Buddhist films from Japan. Who can forget Rashomon (1950), in which a monk hears of one event told from different points of view. Kon Ichikawa's The Burmese Harp (1956) is a response to the search to find spiritual meaning after the destruction wrought by war. We see a Japanese soldier injured in Burma at the end of World War II. A Buddhist monk takes care of him, and he returns to his military unit in Buddhist robes. In the films of Yasujiro Ozu (Early Summer, The End of Summer, etc.), the Buddhism's implied rather than explicit. Each scene, each shot, is given equal emphasis.  The camera is usually placed low, as if everything were seen by someone sitting on a zafu cushion on a tatami mat, contemplating.  A character doesn't experience a climax so much as undergo a subtle change that enables them to appreciate the suchness of things.  Nothing much happens, yet it's everything.

 

 

And Hollywood films can have unintended Buddhist themes, such as It's a Wonderful Life, in which we see what life would be like if one single person hadn't lived, revealing how each person affects everyone else. A film worth seeing more than once is Groundhog Day (1993), in which one man relives the same day 10,000 times until he gets it right. (Paul Schindler has compiled a lucid, deep Ground Hog Day portal to explorations of the film's spiritual resonance shedding light on the interface of spirituality and cinema in general, as well as the unique message of this film in particular.) George Lucas refused to specify whether The Force referred to by Yoda in Star Wars stands for the Tao, the Holy Spirit, Buddha-mind, etc., nor whether Luke Skywalker's journey represented the Buddha's. After all, the motto in Hollywood has been: "If you want to send a message, use Western Union." A more recent phenomena was the Matrix trilogy, with threads from several traditions. (Question, when does a luminous message outweigh violence served up piping hot?)

Recent films about Tibet, such as Seven Years in Tibet (1997), Kundun (1998), and Windhorse (1999), have come a long way from the Hollywood moonshine stereotypes of Lost Horizon (1937). Bernardo Bertolucci's Little Buddha (1993) crosscut the life of the Buddha (played by Keanu Reeves) with the fictional story of a contemporary boy in Seattle thought to be a reincarnated Tibetan lama. Plus, there are now such documentaries as Anguish of Tibet and Wheel of Time (2003). And, from nearby Bhutan, The Cup (2000) was the first film made by a Buddhist lama, Khyentse Norbu, who followed his debut with Travellers & Magicians (2003). [His student, Neten Chokling, has filmed part one of the life story of Milarepa: Magician, Murderer, Saint; part 2 is in the works.]

And there are films in which Buddhist elements pop up like weeds between cracks in concrete, such as in the 1993 biopic about Tina Turner, What's Love Got To Do With It. Just one line in a movie can be undeniably Buddhist, such as in Monsters, Inc., when Mike says to Scully (about Boo), "Oh no!, now that you've given it a name, you'll become attached to it!"

[We intend to spotlight this one-liner phenomenon, of zingers, in a future entry in this blog.  Stay tuned.]

 

 

"What if the worst is true? What if there's no God, and you only go around once and that's it. Well, you know, don't you want to be part of the experience? You know, what the hell, it's not all a drag. And, I'm thinking to myself, 'Geez, I should stop ruining my life searching for answers I'm never gonna get, and just enjoy it while it lasts.'"

~ Woody Allen, Hannah and Her Sisters

For filmmakers, new technology is raising the bar to entry. It's relatively easy to shoot on a high-definition camera, edit it on a home computer, and put it up on a Web site [such as YouTube]. As the media octopus expands, I hope it's not idle speculation to anticipate the eventual reality of a Buddhist TV channel, as there is in Amsterdam as well as Korea. I want my B-TV! Meanwhile, I'll just wait � and sit on my cushion, set my mindscreen up, and inquire into what's projected there. (Please pass the popcorn.)

 

having explored movies AS buddhist

let's now explore buddhist movies

Is Gone with the Wind 

About Impermanence?

There isn't an Oscar for Spiritual Cinema, at least not yet, but tens of millions of people enjoy it when they see it. Themes include the nature of reality and identity and time, mythic quests, and the power of love. Within this unofficial genre, there are Buddhist films a-plenty, as testified to by the International Buddhist Film Festival. Their first call for entries in 2003 pulled in 300 films, from around the planet.

My personal all-time favorite has a longish title, Why Has Bodhidharma Left for the East? a koan which is asking, in effect, "What is the meaning of Buddhism?" " Is it worthwhile?" A young man renounces city life and makes his way to a remote Korean mountain monastery. The first words we finally hear are, "There is no beginning, no middle, no end." It took producer-writer-director-editor Bae Young-kyun five years to put this intimate spiritual epic together, and it's deservedly made it to the top of many Top Ten lists since. The 2001 of zen films. G. G. says "Check it out."

 

More films of Buddhist interest include The Razor's Edge (compare the 1946 and 1984 versions), Afterlife (1998), Caravan (a.k.a. Himalaya) (1999), Jacob's Ladder (adapted from The Tibetan Book of the Dead, 1990), Beyond Rangoon (1995), Enlightenment Guaranteed (2000), Fearless (1993), Heaven and Earth (1993), Oseam, and Samsara (2003).

Documentaries include The Jew in the Lotus (1996), Peace Is Every Step, The Saltmen of Tibet (1998), Chasing Buddha, Genghis Blues, Jews and Buddhism: Belief Amended, Faith Revealed (1999), Regret to Inform (2000), Rivers and Tides (2001, Words of My Perfect Teacher, Home Street Home (2003), and Ellen Bruno's films about Tibetan, Burmese/Thai, and Cambodian women (Satya, Sacrifice, and Samsara).

-/ to be continued

* * *
* *
*


-=| excerpted from The Complete Idiot's Guide to
Understanding Buddhism (second edition) by Gary Gach
(Alpha Books, 2004) used with permission of the publisher |=-

3 Quotes

" ... the metaphor of movie for life is an interesting one. The frames go by so quickly that we retain the illusion of continuity and are distracted from the light that shines steadily through each frame."

- Robert Aitken Roshi

" If you want to enjoy the movie, you should know that it is the combination of film and light and white screen, and that the most important thing is to have a plain, white screen."

— Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, Our Everyday Life Is Like a Movie

Examining "Who am I" is like beginning to go to the movies just to see
how the movie is made.  As we first sit down in the dark theater we find that we are relating to the objects of the melodrama, the motion on the screen.  We pay attention to the story line, which we notice is like the contents of the mind, allowing it to unfold as it will without judgment or the least interference.  As we focus our attention on the process, we begin to see that frames that constitute film are like separate thoughts; then we begin to recognize the process buy which the images are produced, and it breaks our enthrallment with the story line.  We notice that ll the activity is just a projection on a blank screen.  That all these figures dancing before us are an illusion produced by light passing through various densities onthe film.  We see the film is like our conditioning, a repetitious imprint of images gone by.  We see that the whole melodrama is a passing show of motion and change ... We discover that all we imagined ourselves to be — all our becomiung, our memory, all the contents of mind — is just old film running off.  The projectionist has died.  "Who am I?" can't be answered.  We cannot know the truth.  We can only be it.  Constantly living life in the past tense, rummaging through consciousness to decide who and what we are, the truth is obscured. The truth cannot be discovered in the contents of the mind.  Only the untruth of false identification can be uncovered.  Going beyond the false, the truth is revealed.

— Stephen Levine, Who Dies?

... continuation /

 

If we stop to think about this further, we see that when we're engrossed in a movie our ability to exchange our self with others* reveals the basic insubstantiality of self. It's conditonal on the factors of the story. This is how a great actor such as Laurence Olivier could say, late in life, acting didn't teach him to "get in touch with himself" but, rather, it taught him how he'd no idea who he was, really, having realized his heart's potential for being so many different people. Drama teaches that, given the circumstances, we could change who we thought we were in a second. Like they say, there but for fortune go you or I.

Any permanent, substantial identity is a fiction. In ancient Greek theater, the actors wore big masks called persona. Thus what is a real person? In the Zen-influenced dance-theater called Noh, wooden masks even change expressions as the wearer shows them in different angles and shades of lighting.


But film can never duplicate what I see when I settle on my cushion and look into my own mind screen. This is particularly true in insight meditation, when visualization is personalized. And it's a key feature in Tibetan Buddhism, where visualization empowers us to realize our unity with sacred energies by identifying with pictorial images of deities embodying them and then recognizing their intrinsic emptiness (returning to the empty movie screen). And the cosmic implications of Pure Land devotions reveals realms that are inconceivable. Cinema's painting with light pales besides the recognition that we are bodies of light, interbeaming and intergleaming on the luminous mandala of Indra's infinite net of light.